Closest Thing
by hanav77
Summary: The summer before returning to Hogwarts for 7th year Hermione Granger is picked up by a major modeling company, and works there to please here parents and make some well needed money.  Little does she understand of how this choice will change her...
1. Intro Part 1

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

The Big Sunglasses Lady is snapping into her cell phone at a tone one notch under a screech as I approach.

"Excuse me...ma'am? Do you know what you'd like to order?"

Still barking into her Blackberry she glances at the menu and then, covering the mouth piece for a moment, rattles off her order.

"Herbal tea- no milk, no sugar. Garden salad-hold the cheese, croutons, and dressing," and then goes back to her conversation without even sparing me a look.

People these days. I grip my wand that's hidden under my waitresses apron for comfort, I did not know taking a Muggle job would be so stressful. I mean seriously, I'm Hermione Granger; this should be cake compared to what I've been through the last six action packed years of my life. Unsurprisingly, my parents were the ones who pushed for me to look for a job, and I guess I understand their desire to have me around and part of what they would call a normal life.

Rushing back to the kitchen I placed the order and walked out to serve other tables, thankful that I'd finally worn sensible tennis shoes for all the time I spend on my feet.  
Coming back with another few orders to the kitchen I wiped my hands on the back of my uniforms skirt wrinkling my nose at the 6 year old who decided my tip would be much better at the bottom of a nearly empty glass of orange juice. I grabbed Big Sunglasses Lady's order and balanced it in one hand, careful not to spill the tea. Cautiously placing her meal on the table, I give the standard "Hope you enjoy your meal."

"Yes, yes, tha-" And then she stops. Slowly lowering her sunglasses she looks me over. "Ah, and who are you with?" She asks with seeming interest.

"I'm sorry...?" I answer, my face probably displaying my confusion.

"Who are you signed with? What agency?" She elaborates, getting a tad annoyed.

"I'm sorry, I still don't-" What is she talking about?

"Oh." Realization floods her face, "My dear, my name is Delia, and I must say, you are simply gorgeous" The abrupt change in her persona is rather unsettling, like a savage lion suddenly behaving like a cute little energetic puppy. What is this lady on? She must have read my mind, because she continued

"I work for Elite Models, and I am astounded no one has discovered you yet. Your name darling?"

"Hermione Granger." I respond a bit uncertainly.

"Well, Miss Granger would you be interested in working for me and the Agency?" She asks, as if it were the most wonderful proposition, like getting Christmas once a month.

"Well, I-I" I stutter. I don't have time to model! But perhaps for the summer...it would keep my parents happy, and I'd probably get to travel to all sorts of interesting places. Traveling has always been an interest of mine, my family and I used to travel quite frequently actually.

"Excellent!" she interrupts my train of thought "Howabouts I call up your parents and we can meet and work something out?" Her question doesn't leave much room for refusal so when she asks, I mindlessly list off my phone number. She leaves with a "I'll talk to you soon darling!" and is already back talking on her cellphone not moments after her farewell.

* * *

To say my parents were thrilled would be an understatement. Delia must have called them the second she left because by the time I got home from my shift they had already been talking for awhile. After that it was a whirlwind, before I knew it Delia had me booked at a hair stylist, makeup artist, personal shopper. They made short work of my poofy uncontrollable hair, blatant lack of makeup and apparently unacceptable wardrobe. Not one week after I met Delia I was unrecognizable, and on a plane to my first shoot. My hair had been tamed into ringlets, and dyed slightly more brown than it had been by Andy, my energetic and slightly eccentric Italian hair stylist. Elizabeth (stupid, overdone Barbie) had taught me the basics of wearing makeup, as if I didn't already know. And I received a whole bunch of new clothes all picked out by Angela, my personal wardrobe specialist. Out of all of them the only one I had problems with was Elizabeth, her condescending and obviously fake manner bothered me. But Angela, oh, I loved Angela- by the end of our session we were both nearly rolling on the ground laughing at a hideous neon yellow snakeskin vest I had tried on- honestly, who makes this stuff?

Just as I'm about to recline my seat and get some rest on our long flight to a little island about 60 kilometers off the coast of Africa, Delia seats herself next to me and I immediately put on my business face, for some reason feeling the need to let her know I am talking this seriously.

"Now Magnificent 'Mi." Her no nonsense tone makes me sit up straighter in my seat. "We have treated you like the little princess you are, but you have to understand the photographers won't be like that"

"Umm...okay." I am slightly confused at her warning, and wait for her to go on.

"Alright-just making sure your prepared Marvelous 'Mi!" Her now cheerful voice contradicts the semi ominous tone she possessed seconds before, and she flounces off leaving me a bit unsettled. I've faced the most evil wizard of all time, I think I can handle a few rude photographers, I reassure myself. And with that I recline my seat and shut my eyes for the long flight.

* * *

**AN: I know its short and seems to be moving rather quickly, but I am trying to get through the Intro Stuff as quickly as I can so we can move on to the fun stuff at Hogwarts, seeing as the story wont "officially start" until they get on the train. If you would like me to elaborate more on the model stuff or her fun summer, drop me a review and I can do that!**


	2. Intro Part 2

**AN: Wow! I am stunned by the feedback I got withing the first few hours of my post! All your reviews, and added alerts make me feel loved :) Thanks guys!**

* * *

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

_

* * *

One week later_

I'm back on the plane again, finding great comfort in the fact that it is headed far, far, away from this place of snooty photographers, and practically robotic prep teams. I am going back home and couldn't be more thrilled about it. I am partly furious, I expected the shoots to be exotic, fun filled, and (dare I say) easy. I got only one out of the three. The location was fantastic, the trees towering above our heads giving a bit of shade, and the ocean was so blue, like out of a picture in a vacation magazine. When I arrived at my hotel room, there were gift bags one the bed! Feeling like a little child on Christmas, I opened them all up and found flowy dresses, bright bikinis, and lovely perfumes from many famous designers I recognized. When I called Angela that night she said it was pretty common for the Houses to throw products at new models that show a lot of promise. That was the extent of the exotics.

My mind that easily handles Professor Binns dreadfully dull lectures is exhausted. In the past week I had spent hours in swively chairs in front of mirrors hearing grumbling from the hairstylists as my brunette locks refused all their attempts to straighten it, and commands from the make-up artists "look up, look at my knee, stop squinting, and for goodness sake, _stop squirming!" _And they weren't even the worst! I was treated like no more than a coat hanger; they didn't expect me to talk, in fact, they themselves talked as if I wasn't even there. The editors at the computers reviewing shots as they were taken made little comments that I couldn't help but hearing. "Oh, look at that pointy toe- that'll need to be fixed." "Hmmm...not nearly enough definition on the hip bone, stomachs sticking out too." "Ugh, flyaways galore on this girl." All as they click away at their photo editing software, in attempts to make me beautiful. I can't pretend that their comments didn't sting, even a bit.

Sitting in the exact same seat I was a week ago I look down at my stomach, it looks flat to me. Peeking around the plane, it appears that everyone is asleep or glued to their laptops so I quietly take "Hogwarts, A History." out of my carry one to distract myself.

"Ah, so your one of them." a wry voice interrupts me after I'd been reading awile. Startled, I didn't even hear Delia approach. I tilt my head to the side in confusion. She knows about Hogwarts?

"Yes, I know about your little school Magical 'Mi- your not the first and certainly won't be the last. Just last year Miss Pansy Parkinson's two year contract with us expired. Though for some bizarre reason she turned down the generous opportunity to to renew it...' Delia trails off, lost in thought 'In any case, I should have guessed earlier, from your inability to work during the school year, or even provide us an address of your school. It answers the question as to why you hadn't been discovered before I found you, working in that cafe," scrunching her nose in distaste at my previous place of employment.

"We have had many from Beaubaton, and even a few girls from Durmstrang. The foreign look was very in last year," she informs me. "This year the innocent and inexperienced are the next best thing!" And she turns to go, leaving me feel slightly insulted without knowing how.

* * *

When I get home, I plaster a smile on my face before walking in the door. I don't want to explain to my parents my dislike of the world I had so innocently thrown myself into. It's not all bad, I reason, it is fun being all dressed up and feeling pretty, and enjoying the sun, and getting new clothes. More importantly, I got paid £4,000! The money is so crucial to my family I can't afford to turn down such an exorbant salary, and while Delia and the Agency took a percentage of it, I am still left with a hefty sum.

"Hello, I'm home!" I call up the stairs.

Mum and Dad come rushing down to see me, Mums face shining with excitement.

"Well, how was it?" she asks, smiling impatiently.

"I had a lot of fun!' trying not to make my enthusiasm seem forced. 'Designers sent me clothes while I was there, mum, you'll have to see them- they are to die for!" I say with a grin, pointedly looking at a suitcase that wasn't with me when I left. I know that this is what she will be most interested to hear, I have often told her that her addiction to cute shoes is unhealthy.

She squeals with delight and looks at me for permission, upon receiving my bemused smiling nod, she grabs the suitcase to bring it upstairs and see what I got.

Dad comes close and pulls me into a hug. "It's good to have you back, sweetie."

"It's good to be back," I sigh with relief.

"We got the check yesterday. Thank you." He says softly, and turns away heading for the kitchen. I know that this is hard for him, allowing me to help support the family. He feels ashamed when he can't provide for us.

I trudge up the stairs to my room, finding it just the same as I left it. It is organized, relatively small but filled with books. The two average sized bookcases are not remotely big enough to hold them all. There are books stacked on the radiator, on the windowsill, under my bed, on top of the dressers, and on nearly every free surface except my desk. I plop down in my desk chair and find a letter with _Hermione_ scratched on the front.

Hermione,  
Hope you're having a good summer- not worrying yourself to much over the school work that hasn't been assigned yet are you? I was wondering if you wanted to come to the Burrow for the rest of the summer, Harry is coming too and we haven't seen each other in ages. Fred and George are driving me mad, please come and use some of your perfected prefect authority on them before we all go insane!  
Owl back soon,  
Ron

I grit my teeth, Delia is having me work most all of the summer, so as much as summer at the Burrow with my friends sounds appealing I know I have to turn it down. Grabbing a spare piece of parchment I scrawl out

Ron,  
How has your summer been? It's looking like I'm not going to be able to make it to the Burrow this summer. I want to spend some time with my family, traveling and such, before our last year at Hogwarts. Perhaps we can meet in Diagon Alley before school starts?  
Hermione

I send my letter out with our tawny barn owl, and lay back on my light purple bed spread. I don't tell him about my new job.

**

* * *

AN: Another chapter down! I've decided I will do one more chapter, and it will do with modeling stuff (shows etc.) and then it will be time to head to Hogwarts!**  
**But, I need your help! I am completely drawing a blank about what passwords for dormitories should be...any ideas? Drop a review and let me know!**


	3. Intro Part 3

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

The rest of the summer continued in much of the same fashion (no pun intended.) I was bounced around between shoots and living the glamorous life. My wardrobe was steadily expanding as designers encouraged me to take an item or two home from each shoot. It wasn't generosity of course, merely good publicity to have their clothes being worn by an up and coming model, but hey, I not complaining.

Today is my very first runway show, it is also the last work that I will do before the end of summer and I go back to Hogwarts. Looking out the window I see the limo pull up. I shout a good bye up the stairs to mum and dad and head out into the hot August day. In the limo I am greeted by a welcomed blast of cold air, and my prep team of Andy, Elizabeth, and Angela.

"Hey stranger, welcome aboard!" Angela chirps. I give her and Andy hugs and Elizabeth a polite nod. Her narrowed eyes are just daring me to give _her_ a hug as well; I turn down to unvoiced challenge.

"Where's Delia?" I ask.

"She'll meet us there," Andy chimed in "she has to keep track of the other girls too. The world doesn't revolve around you 'Magnificent 'Mi'" he said, teasing me and mocking Delia at the same time.

The long car ride does end up being fun, Andy, Angela and I have the music cranked up loud and we are dancing (well as much movement as is allowed in the back of a car,) and trying to ignore the crabby extra.

"We're here." Elizabeth announces flatly. And with that we tumble out of the limo, Andy, Angela and I still giggling at an inside joke.

We have stopped in front of a tall beautiful building in the edges of London; I suppose it has to be as gorgeous as the people who stroll around inside. After we show our IDs at the front security desk the prep team walks the halls like pros, the have obviously been here many times before. Angela pushes open a door and I find myself in a large, high-ceilinged room, with a hundred or so other girls sitting in stylists chairs in front of mirrors, their prep team buzzing around them like bees. Some are on their phone, some are chatting with their friends in chairs next to them, and others are simply blankly staring ahead waiting as the beauticians work their magic.

Andy guides me to an open seat and I sit down, preparing myself for the long day ahead.

* * *

The primping, and poking, and plucking are all done. My hair is teased, and in a ridiculously large bun on the top of my head. My face is pale but my lips are a shocking red. I think I look foolish, but scanning the room, I see that all of us are made up the same way, sort of...zombielike.

The other girls and I are in a long rectangular room behind the runway; along the walls are clothes hangers, each labeled with a different girl and designer's names. I look over at the door on the other end of the hallway-like room. I get butterflies at the thought of all the people and cameras and critics that are on the other side of the door. What if I trip? What if something falls off? What if I _smile?_

I was warned of the dangers of smiling on the runway, it practically equates to career death. If I smile, Delia could cancel my 2-year contract without a second thought. So instead, I'm required to strut down the catwalk, completely expressionless, or maybe with a teensy bit of a scowl.

"No room for modesty back here," a rail thin, raven haired girl says as she breezes by, seeing my hesitation "You know the drill- panties on, bra off." I watch her back as she moves away from me, my head cocked uncertainly. I take a deep breath and strip, we are all girls here, I remind myself, I don't have anything they don't have.

I pull the first item on my cue off the rack; a pale pink sheer dress, with a plunging neck line, a faux fur belt, and a pair on tall, high heeled gray boot. Honestly, they call this fashion?

It's show time in five minutes and the butterflies in my stomach are flying faster and faster. Waiting in line I hear clips of conversation.

4 minutes. These girls know each other, they have done this show before, but I'm the new girl and they leave me alone preferring to stick with their current friends.

3 minutes.

"Is my makeup smeared? I went out to..."

"Oh my gosh, did you hear about Kate? I heard that last night she..."

"I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday day but a Diet Coke..."

"Shoot! My nail polish chipped, Delia is gonna kill me..."

2 minutes

Okay Hermione, just breathe it'll be okay.

1 minute.

We're one.

The line in front of me is getting shorter and shorter, and soon enough it's my turn. Cameras are flashing so brightly that I can't see the crowd, which I guess is a good thing. Walking like Delia taught me, one foot in front of the other, heel toe heel toe, hips swaying, I keep my face carefully expressionless. Getting to the end of the runway, I pop my hip, pivot on my heel, and then I'm heading back.

I hang the outfit back on rack. Change into the next one, and the whole thing repeats.

* * *

"I can't wear that Angela!" I protest, and for good reason, she is holding up a black, sparkly shirt that she is trying to convince me is a dress. We are going out tonight. She claims that after being a model for a month and a half I should already be on "the scene."

Angela has done my hair; it is hanging down in loose curls to my mid-back. My normally dull brown eyes, are now warm melted chocolate, and are outlined in charcoal, bringing out golden flecks I didn't know I had. My lips and nails are a deep red, a mix of scarlet and maroon.

"Just go try it on, you can always take it off then," she reasons. But I know its not that easy, once I have it on, I know it's not coming off.

"Oh, and you'll need these," she says digging through a dresser drawer. She tosses something lacy and black at me, and I automatically drop it. She merely snorts at me and I throw my hands up in defeat as I stomp off into her walk-in closet to try it on while she looks for an out fit in the massive heap of clothes on her bed.

After pulling it on I look at the full length mirror, wow, I think, I look hot. The neckline of the dress is high enough for me, the top of the dress is not skin tight and ties around the back of my neck. It's the rest of the dress I have a problem with. It's short, it hits my upper thigh, it's formfitting from the waist down, and the back is very, very low cut, barely covering the top of my lacy black panty line, leaving my back open, getting shivers from the air conditioning on my bare skin. If my parents saw me now they would freak out.

"How is it?" Angela walks in, her hair pulled into a high flat-ironed pony tail, and wearing a low cut emerald green halter, with very short black and silver shorts.

"Ah, perfect! You're good to go!" And with that she grabs me by the arm and pulls me out to her dark silver Volkswagen bug, and we are on our way before I can protest.

* * *

**AN: Longest chapter so far! Well, it appears we will be in the glamorous Muggle world a little longer than I expected! Review!**


	4. Intro Part 4

**AN: Wow, I am doing this crazy fast, surprising for my first story. But it wont always be like this, I have school, and homework (especially today, now that we go back to school tomorrow), and life. But since I am so terrible at prioritizing, I am doing this :)**

* * *

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

The line in front of the club was long and I can already hear the bass pound of the music and we aren't even inside. I start my way over to the end of the line, but Angela shakes her head at me like I'm crazy and pulls my arm impatiently for me to follow her. With a smile she walks up to the bouncer and whispers something in his ear, and with that she beckons to me and we are inside.

The club is dimly lit, I can't really make out the faces of those on the dance floor, and there are colored lights flying around on the walls. The music is so loud we have to shout to be heard.

"What did you tell him?" I ask suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about..." She giggled.

"Ang..."

"Well, lets just say I might have used your fame to get us around the line" Angela admitted guiltily. I roll my eyes, I'm not that famous, I am still new to this.

"C'mon," she urged "lets go get something at the bar."

"Ang, I'm underage." I inform her.

"You would be worried about something like that," she chortles "don't you fret."

She parks us at a pair of stools in front of the bar. She signals for two beers when the bartender looks our way.

3 drinks later the dance floor is burning. Bodies are packed together and are writhing in pairs to the beats that are being blasted through speakers all around the club. It seems to be sort of a free for all- dancers are switching partners so frequently and randomly I would guess that a majority of them are with people they never met before tonight, and will never meet again. And even if they did happen to pass each other on the street, they wouldn't recognize each other. For although couples are standing less than a foot from each other, the flashing lights leave faces in shadows.

A hand pulls me into the throng, and it appears as though I have found a dance partner. Or a partner has found me. His heavy hands are on my waist, and mine are on his shoulders, and we are moving to the music. I look up at him as he looks down at me, all I can see is some pretty dang perfect brown hair. The rest of his face is tilted down at me, rendering me unable to see what he looks like. His arms are strong and his shoulders are broad, over a pair of low slung dark jeans he wears a casual black button up shirt with the top few buttons undone its easily to tell this guy is built.

He spins me out, hard, and curls me back to him, my back now flush against his solid chest. I feel him reach a hand up and move my curls to the side, away from my ear.

"Darlin', the nights awastin'." his voice whispers, his hot breath tickles my ear and my neck. I've heard that voice before- where, where? My thinking is sluggish, shouldn't have had that much beer, I berate myself, think Hermione, think. Oh, of course! Every teenager has heard that voice before, sung along to it too, those exact words even, whether they wanted to or not. The radios are obsessed with his music; no way, I am dancing with pop sensation and Hollywood heart breaker Jaren Scott!

His hands move down to my hips, pulling me even closer to him, his thumbs hook around the plunging low back of my dress and start tracing delicious circles on my bare skin. _This is wrong, I don't want this..._

_But it feels so good. _A drowsy voice in my head breaths.

_No, I am not doing this._

I start to move away when his hands are ripped away from my body. I whirl around but see that he is already gone, instead there is someone else standing in front of me, I guess he took care of Jaren for me. The man is wearing a dark grey t-shirt and has nearly white, blond hair that is constantly shifting colors from the lights that are swinging around the otherwise dark room.

"Thank you." I say simply. He nods and start to turn away, but I grab his arm. "Hey, don't go. One dance?"

Nodding again he gently pulls me closer to him. My hands fall flat on his chest, and his are at my waist. His large hands hold my small frame, and they wrap around my sides. His fingertips, unable to avoid it, lightly rest against my exposed skin, and we are dancing. It's more of a slow dance, swaying to some unheard music, ignoring the fast beats and the sweaty bodies surrounding us.

And then we speed up. My hands sliding from his chest, winding up and around his neck. His hands move down to my hips, but this is different than with Jaren. This man, this stranger, _feels_ different. Maybe it's the beer.

My hips are moving against his, and we are pure fire. My head on his chest can hear his pounding heart beat, its speeding up. There's not an inch between us when his hands glide up my sides and wind into my hair. I know what's coming, and I want it.

Our lips meet; it's a hard bruising kiss. Heat. Passion. My hands twist into his silky hair and I open my mouth to his, our tongues meeting. His hands run down my spine to clasp my naked back and are all that's holding me up, for my knees have gone weak. The building could be on fire and I wouldn't notice.

And then it's done. I see his hair disappearing into the mosh pit.

"Wait!" I croak, my voice husky, but my call is lost in the crowd. It's no use, he is gone.

* * *

2 hours later

Silently I open the front door and creep up to my room. I feel like a criminal in my own house. _You didn't do anything wrong, they said you could go out, it's not like you lied to them. You didn't do anything wrong. _I flip on the lights and see and envelope on my desk, careful not to knock anything over that would wake my parents up, I make my way through the uncharacteristically messy room. With all the craziness lately, I haven't had time to get organized.

I flick open the envelope, breaking the familiar Hogwarts wax seal. A badge with the letter H on it falls out into my hand, I let loose a silent squeal in my head, I know what this means. Additionally, inside I find two letters;

_Dear Miss Granger,_  
_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._  
_A list of books for next year is enclosed._  
_Yours sincerely,_  
_Professor M. McGonagall_  
_Headmistress_

_Dear Miss Granger,_  
_I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected as Head Girl. Please report to Car 2, immediately upon boarding the Hogwarts Express so you may be informed of the duties and privileges of such a prestigious position._  
_Yours sincerely,_  
_Professor M. McGonagall_  
_Headmistress_

The clock reads 2:30, but I'm not tired.


	5. Chapter 1

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

"Blimey Hermione, what happened to your hair?" Ron yelped as he and Harry slid into the booth across from me, placing a tray of glasses filled with iced tea on the table. We had agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron before going out to buy our school stuff. I had almost forgotten that I didn't look the same as they last saw me- my new hair and clothes feels normal by now.

"You're late." I sigh, in a means of greeting; the Leaky Cauldron is not the most pleasant of places to be kept waiting. They get all sorts of people here, and they aren't shy about their staring. A pale woman with long limp black hair had been eyeing me speculatively in the five minutes before Harry and Ron got here.

"Is that any way to greet your friends after not seeing them for two months?" Harry teased, "Besides, we were here five minutes ago, we just didn't notice you right away with out your hair. And what are you wearing?" He asks, astounded at my clothing choice, I look down. I guess the stylish clothes are different than what I used to wear but I am saved from giving a response when I feel my cell phone buzz in my back pocket. Since the Leaky Cauldron isn't technically completely part of Diagon Alley, there is not enough magic to interfere with the phone reception. The caller ID on the front tells me that it's Delia so I let it go to voicemail; I'm with my best friends in the world right now. I don't want to deal with her.

"Oh, is that a tell-a-fon?" Ron asks with interest, "Who is calling you?" sounding proud he used the right terminology.

"It's a cell phone," I correct, carefully avoiding his second question. "It is a type of portable telephone"

After we finish our drinks we stroll freely through Diagon Ally. Passing Olivanders I see an 11 year old girl getting her first wand. The wand maker pushes a new wand in her hand to try out time and time again as light bulbs burst, smoke forms and drawers fly across the shop. The auburn haired girl looks a bit frightened, and my guess is shes a Muggleborn at the surprise she exhibits towards powerful stick in her hand.

Recalling my first time in the shop I smile; remembering with fondness how Mr. Olivander greeted me by my name even before I introduced my self as I pushed open the shop door with a _ding!_ as the bell went off. I remember being amazed at the shelves full of wands lining the walls. Wryly, I remember asking Olivander as many questions as I could get out of my mouth, about where they came from, how they were made, and what they were made of. With a soft smile he had patiently explained to me the origins of ashwood, rosewood, oak, and hornbeam. He listed off the cores, ranging from heartstring of a dragon, to hair from a unicorn. As a little girl, I gasped in shock of this fact, then promptly asked Dad if I could get one for Christmas if I was _really really_ good; he told me to ask Santa.

We continue on until we reach our first destination: Flourish and Blotts, where we are suppoused to meet Ginny. Walking in the door I am immediately assaulted with a bear hug. I spit some violently red hair out of my mouth, "Hi, Ginny, it's good to see you too." I tease, but still hug her back.

"Hermione! I love your hair!" Ginny all but shrieked.

"Thanks Gin!" I reply.

"Oi! Some of use would actually like to _keep_ our eardrums, thanks." Ron complained.

I pull out my school book list, and begin to search the shelves instead of waiting to be helped by a witch or wizard behind the counter.

_Advanced Potion-Making_ by Libatius Borage. Check.

_The Standard Book of Spells__ (Grade 7)_ by Miranda Goshawk. Check.

_Intermediate Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch. Check.

_Advanced Numerology and Grammatica _by Altheda Brocklehurst. Check.

_Defence Against the Dark Arts_ Volume 4 by Arsenius Jigger. Check.

_Magical Plants of Earth and Sea_ by Concepta Claverdorn. Check.

Before coming to Diagon Alley I had stopped at a Muggle bank in order to withdraw money made from my modeling salary. I had felt a little jumpy walking through London carrying nearly £5,000, but I knew that Gringotts wouldn't accept checks. I deposited all but £150, leaving me with about 50 galleons to spend and bring to Hogwarts.

We each pay for our books, and leave the stuffy bookstore that I could spend the whole day in if I had the time.

"Next stop: Madam Malkins." Harry announces. Good thing to, I need new robes. For while my Muggle wardrobe has been slowly expanding, I still needed robes to wear over them for classes and such on days I didn't wear my uniform.*

I end up ordering 3 school robes and a set of emerald green dress robes with golden embroidered stars along the hem. It sure is nice to have a bit of extra spending money, I mean we have never been poor, but there wasn't a whole lot to spend on non necessity items. The modeling does atleast provide for that.

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny calls to me, "come check this out." I walk over to her to look at the new section of jewelry along the back wall, that wasn't here last year.

"Isn't this one stunning?" She asks, with obvious lust in her eyes, holding a box up for my inspection. I have to agree, the delicate gold chain, which carries a sapphire encrusted pendant is pretty, but then something else catches my eye.

It has the thinnest silver chain I have ever seen, as if it would be invisible on the wearer and the teardrop pendant displays a single sparkling diamond in the center. It is simple but it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life.

I flip over the price tag and air explodes from my lungs in shock; it cost 1,500 galleons! If I emptied my Gringotts account it could be mine, and a crazy part of me considers it for a moment, but then I shake the thought away. This is too gorgeous for someone like me, and with that I regretfully set the box back on the table.

"No hopes for getting it for Christmas then?" A voice behind me drawls, "Not like your Weasel boyfriend over there could afford it." Draco Malfoy shoots a look at Ron, who is skimming the clearance rack. "Probably costs more than his dump of a house three times over."

"Sod off, Malfoy." I retort flatly, and grabbing Ginny's arm before she does anything rash we return back to Ron, and Harry, who is paying for his new robes, and then leave the shop. _You will not take any of Malfoy's crap this year, you are Head Girl and there is nothing he can do to change that. You can always take points from him._ Comforted by the thought I smile, and rejoin my friends conversation. We spend the rest of the day window shopping and laughing together, I couldn't ask for anything better.

* * *

I gather all my school books and clothes together, checking, double checking, and triple checking that I have everything. Since I turned 17 earlier this summer it is legal for me to do magic outside of school, so with a handy shrinking spell I am able to bring all my clothes, new and old, supplies, and books. I give my room one last quick clean, making sure my shelves are dusted and my books are neatly stacked; I hate coming home to a dirty room.

Snapping off the lights, I drop onto my bed. After I have already gotten comfy I remember Delia's call with a groan, and reach over, trying hard not to fall off my bed as I attempt to get my jacket off the back of my desk chair in the dark without getting out of bed. Digging my phone out of the coat pocket, I dial in for voicemail, waiting to hear Delia's voice.

_"Mysterious 'Mi, you did utterly fabulous last week, the phone has been wringing off the hook darling, the designers are all wondering who you are! I turned all the minor ones down of course, you are above them now. Your next job is big, this is what makes your career- Burberry contacted me, requesting you as face of their new campaign. They required that you slim down a bit, 10 pounds or so; but it shouldn't be a problem. I have compiled your port-" _

_BEEP! To delete this message press seven, to save it is in archives press four. _A mechanical voice cuts off Delia's message and punching seven, I snap the phone shut, resisting the urge to hurl it at the wall. Tomorrow I go to Hogwarts, away from all of this, and with that I sink into uninterrupted sleep.

* * *

*I figure that they usually wear the typical school uniform (dress shirt, tie, and slacks for boys, and skirt for girls,) or they wear whatever clothes they want if they have uniform robes on top.

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**AN: For some reason this chapter proved very difficult to write, so please excuse me if it is not all that great. I must say I was rather disappointed in the amount of feedback I received from the last chapter- did I do okay on the club scene? I spend hours on this all for you- comments and criticism are welcome! I know it is rather annoying to hear author beg for them but reviews are like our virtual food.**

**The visitor counters are down and without reviews I wont know whether the story is good enough to continue so please just spend a couple seconds- it can even be anonymous, and let me know what you think.**


	6. Chapter 2

**AN: Special thanks to DaRk AnGeL oF sOrRoW rEtUrNs for being my absolute favoritest reviewer!**

* * *

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

After many tearful goodbyes I walked through the barrier of platform nine and three quarters, giving the area a quick once over to make sure no one was watching me walk straight through the wall.

The sight of the majestic red train greeted me, emblazoned with the golden title 'Hogwarts Express.' A warm feeling settled in my stomach, I am on my way back to school and it will be an excellent year.

"Hey, Hermione! Over here!" A voice shouts and I turn to my left to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the twins, Harry, Ron and Ginny. Running over to meet them, I pull my luggage along behind me.

"Oh, Hermione, good to see you dear." Mrs. Weasley says by way of a greeting, bustling over to give me a hug.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it out to the Burrow this summer, Mrs. Weasley." I apologize sincerely. I really am disappointed I couldn't visit atleast once, I consider the Weasleys' like my second family.

"Oh not to worry dear, perhaps you can come round at Christmas time." She says, and then looks us all over.

"Got all your stuff then? It's nearly time for the train to leave!" Mrs. Weasley frets, giving each of us a hug and a kiss on the check before sending us on our way.

"Oi, Hermione, we got you a little something to help you along with your Head girl duties." Fred says.

"Finest batch of the lot," George continues, holding a large bag of what I presume to be Weasley's Wizarding Weezes products. Seeing my protest he shoves the bag into my hand. "Just in case you have any little Slytherin brats-"

"Or Malfoy himself, preferably, that need to be put in their place." They reason. Sighing, I stuff the bag of Ton-Tongue Toffees, Canary Cremes, and other mischief making items into my trunk, and thank them.

"No problem-"

"Just let us know how they work! Have a good term!"

And with that we leave them behind and board the train.

"Well, I guess it's time we go find a car..." Ron trailed off, look down the hallway of already occupied compartments.

"I have to go meet McGonagall in Car 2," I said apologetically. "Head girl stuff..."

"Oh," Ron replied, dejected "Well, have fun- let us know who the head boy is." And with that he and Harry wandered off, animatedly discussing an apparently brilliant Quidittch match that occurred over the summer.

Ah, some things never change, I thought fondly.

Making my way towards car 2, I was quite nervous- who would the head boy be? I would guess Ernie McMillan, not a bad person, a bit pompous at times but I could live with that. Or perhaps Jeremy Davis, a studious Ravenclaw, kinda like a male version of myself I'm told.

Walking through the cars, seeing the number get closer and closer to two all too quickly. 7...6...5...4...3... And here I am: Car 2. I take a deep breath and slide the door open.

My jaw nearly drops to the floor at the blond haired boy casually lounging on the velvety seats.

"_Malfoy?_" I shocked exclamation bursts from my lips before I can stop it. Out of all the seven year students they had to pick Draco _Malfoy?_

"Hey Granger, guess I'm not all that surprised to see you here." His purposely layed back tone annoyed me, and he knew it.

"Malfoy." I acknowledge curtly, with a sharp nod, and then go take a seat on the opposite side of the compartment as him.

"Now Granger," he drawled "is that anyway to treat your future room mate?"

Before I had the chance to give a retort, Professor McGonnagal swept into the large compartment.

"Good afternoon," she greets us in her usually clipped tone. "Congratulations on earning the position of Heads of the school. This is a duty not to be taken lightly, as it is a great honor."

McGonagall's tone reminds me slightly of Delia and I nod seriously, taking a peek at Malfoy I see his eyes glazed over, bored, staring at a point a bit to the right of McGonagall's head. He isn't taking this seriously, he doesn't deserve this.

"Your responsibilities will include scheduling patrols for the Prefects, planning the Winter Ball, and setting a good example among the younger students, to name a few. We have anticipated much division and animosity between the Houses, and as such, it is your duty to promote Inter-House Unity." She gives us a stern glance over the tops of her glasses, making sure we know that our arch enemy relationship ends _now._

Psh. Like that'll happen.

"Your dormitories are located on the fifth floor." This catches my attention, due to my extensive research, as heads I know we share a common room, but the fifth floor? That's so out of the way, and the fifth floor is nearly deserted. All that is there, to my knowledge is a large ancient ballroom, which has long since been retired in favor for the Great Hall, and the East Tower. Sensing my upcoming question McGonagall explains, "Due to damage done to the castle at the end of last year, the Heads Dormitories have been moved until a more suitable location can be arranged." She is referring to Amycus Carrow rampage through the second floor corridor upon the elated discovery of Dumbledore's death; the original dormitories must have been in that hallway. Carrow's curse were Dark Magic, I am not surprised that they were not able to mend the rooms back into their safe and non-cursed condition.

"That is all. You are free to roam the corridors or go find you friends if you wish." She says by means of dismissal, and exits the way she entered.

Not needing any more encouragement I rush out of the compartment behind her to find Harry and Ron.

Searching through the compartments while trying not to appear like a stalker is rather difficult and I'm not sure if I completely managed, but I did end up finding Harry and Ron.

"Hey Hermione, your out soon than expected, how was the Heads meeting? Who's the Head Boy?" Harry inquires casually. I notice he is sitting a little closer to Ginny than normal. Good, he's finally noticing her as something other than Ron's little sister.

"Yeah, McGonagall didn't have much to say." I reply, hoping he doesn't notice I didn't answer his last question.

"And the Head Boy?" Ron asks again. Gah, no getting out of it this time.

"Malfoy." I inform them all flatly.

"No way, how'd that git end up as Head Boy?" Ron exclaimed, incredulously outraged.

"Well, Ron," Ginny chimes in "the ferret is ranked pretty high in your year. Just below the Head Girl, in fact."

Malfoy is ranked second in the year? I always figured he got his minions to do his homework, if it got done at all.

"And I've got to share a common room with him. And plan the winter ball with him. And not kill him in his sleep, because that would not be setting a very good example for the younger students of Inter-House unity, and-" I moaned, building up steam.

"Hermione. It's going to be okay. He's an idiot, but you're better than him. Just slip him a little Nosebleed Nougat, that should work out just fine." Harry reasoned, partially joking. I shoot him a glare, this is a serious situation and I do not appreciate his humor. "And, if he tries _anything, _Ron and I will take care of him." He said firmly, on a more serious note.

**

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AN: I want reviews! This time though, I want ****one**** thing you don't like about the story so far. This is your chance to complain and tell me that Ginny was out of character, or Malfoy wasn't annoying enough, or my writing style is too _. Whatever it may be- I want to know. (Be harsh, but please be respectful.)**


	7. Chapter 3

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

After the first years were sorted McGonagall stood up to give the beginning of the year speech. A somber realization that Dumbledore was dead once again hit the students of Hogwarts, across all of the tables.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have a few announcements to make before the feast can begin. Firstly, I would like to remind all students the Forbidden Forest is of limits, and you are only to enter it if you are accompanied by a teacher. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that all Wealey's Wizarding Weezes and Zonkos products are banned, and will automatically be confiscated if discovered." My mind wanders to the stash hidden my bag; I'm breaking the school rules already. That didn't take long, I thought with chagrin.

"Madam Hooch would like me to inform you that the should Houses wish to reserve the pitch for practice, the captain will need to visit her office to sign up. Reservations are first come first serve." Harry looks as though he is struggling not to bolt out the door in order to sign up right now.

"We are also reopening the Dueling Club, available only to sixth and seventh years; it will provide a _safe_ and _controlled_ environment to learn proper life skills and relieve the tension between the Houses. It will meet every Tuesday and Thursday at 7:30 in the evening." She doesn't look all to thrilled about this announcement, but Harry and Ron are grinning ridiculously across the table from me.

"I believe that is all. I wish you all a good year, and enjoy the feast." She steps down from the podium and it disappears, as the platters in front of us become heaped with food. I scoop a big heap of potatoes onto my plate before Ron can get to them. I'm about to reach for the baked chicken when Delia's voice rings through my head _10 pounds or so, shouldn't be that big of an issue..._ and suddenly I'm not hungry any more.

"H'mione, pass the pudding, would ya?" Ron asks, with his mouth full. I silently oblige, grabbing the dish that is sitting to the right of my elbow and sliding it over to him I return to pushing around my mashed potatoes with a fork.

When the eating has died down, the dinner dishes disappear and new ones replace them, covered with pastries, and cakes, and all sorts of other desserts. Screw this. After a summer with dentists I deserve something sugary and tasty, so I grab a large buttery pastry with apple-orange filling. It flakes off in my fingers and melts in my mouth. Mmmm...Hogwarts cooking; I know it's done by house elves, and I haven't abandoned S.P.E.W, there are just better ways of making a stand than refusing their food. Especially really good food.

When Harry and Ron decide that they can't eat another bite they stand up to go to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Well, goodnight Hermione." Ron says cautiously. "Be careful."

I bid them both good night, and go to find McGonagall; she never told us what our password was.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I was looking for you; I realized I never gave you and Mr. Malfoy your password." The gray-haired woman turned around just as I was about to clear my throt, thankful she saved me from the awkwardness of calling atention to myself.

"Yes, Professor. That is why I came to see you."

"Your dormitory is located behind the painting of a blue sky scene, with Miranda. The password is _Redintegranda. _ I would escort you there myself, but it seems Peeves has other plans for my agenda. Have a good evening Miss. Granger.

"You as well, Professor."

Taking the long walk up otherwise vacant staircases, I manage to find the picture McGonagall was referring to. I am unsure of what to do next; there is no one here to give the password to. All the frame holds is a bright blue sky with the occasional poofy cloud, and an open field. Then a girl of around 10 years steps in the frame, she has long wavy yellowy blonde hair, and is wearing a pair of faded denim overalls.

"Hello," her light voice reminds me of Luna "You must be Hermione Granger, my name is Miranda. Do you know the password?"

"Redintegranda."

"Very good!" Her childish voice congratulates, and then swings aside to reveal my new home.

I feel my eyes widen into the sizes of dinner plates, this common room is amazing. Its high ceilinged common room is decorated in earth tones. On the opposite end of the room is a giant window that looks out onto the grounds, and from here I can see the Quidditch pitch, and the Black Lake. Along that wall is a staircase that rises to a loft, in which I assume I'll find my bedroom and bathroom. The wall to my right is a floor to ceiling bookcase, centered around a large brick fire place that already has a fire roaring inside. There are a couple arm chairs and a sofa in front of the hearth that would be perfect for doing homework. Peeking in the doorway to my right I find a small kitchen, that is stocked with a bit of food, some magical appliances, and a rectangular table.

This place is so much nicer than the Gryffindor Common Room, I am pleasantly surprised that they were able to pull this together so quickly; it is stunning.

"You stand there with your mouth open you're gonna catch flies, Granger." A voice behind me drawls.

I give him a nod, and start to head up to my room.

"Your rooms on the right, Granger, don't _ever_ go into mine." He warns menacingly.

"Or what? You'll tell your father? Oh, that's right! Your father is in Azkaban where he belongs with all of his little Death Eater Buddies!" I mock. "And we both know why." I didn't know, but I seem to have hit a nerve; Malfoy practically exploded.

"You don't belong here, you filthy mudblood!" he snarls, and every insult he held inside came pouring out of his mouth "You're not good for anything! You think you're so high and mighty, yet you have no right to be here! No one even wants you here so just get out!"

I am shaking with anger. He has no right to say such things. My hands scrabble around for something to throw at him, to knock that scowl off his face. My fingers latch on a glass bottle of ink, and I hurl it at his head with all of my strength. It misses his ear by a couple inches.

"Is that all you got you worthless buck-toothed know-it-all?" he taunts. My hands search for something else to throw at him, but then that doesn't seem fast enough. I fling my self across the dim common room, lit only by the flames in the fireplace. Launching myself at him his back hits the bookcase behind him, and I pull my fist back to smash into the side of his face.

"You have no right." I hiss, my face close to his, then let my fist snap forward.

But it never hits its target. Malfoy catches my punch in his surprisingly warm hand before it had a chance to bash his face in, and then grabs my other wrist in the same hand. He spins me around harshly, and I wince as now _my_ back slams into the shelves behind me. He holds my wrists above our heads in one hand, and I struggle to free them, his body trapping me between the bookcase.

"I have every right." He growls lowly, our noses are nearly touching and his grey eyes are flashing, an inch from mine, and I glare straight into them, trying not to reveal my fear.

And then as if suddenly realizing how close we are standing he shoves me one last time against the bookcase and I hold back a yelp, and then stomps up the stairs to his room. I let out the breath I didn't realize I had been holding, and rub my back. This beautiful new home doesn't seem worth the trouble of the people who live in it as well.

**

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AN: Thanks for all your suggestions I will be incorporating many of them, in fact I was surprised when it seemed that a couple reviewers had practically read my mind! **  
**Anyways. Another chapter down- please review!**


	8. Chapter 4

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

The light shines through my eyelids, a painful reminder that it is time to get up. Cracking open my eyes, I look around and am slightly disoriented to find that I am not in the Gryffindor Girls Dormitories. After a moment, last nights events come flooding into my brain. _Right, I have a different roommate this year._ Groaning, I look at the clock and realize I have missed my morning run.

A loud yawn bursts from my mouth and I stumble into the bathroom connected to my room, with my flannel pajama pants, and a baggy t-shirt still on. The bathroom is decently sized; it has a glass doored shower along the back wall with the toilet next to it. Gritting my teeth I notice there are _two_ sinks and mirrors, meaning Malfoy must use this bathroom as well. The doors to the bathroom are configured in a T shape. I entered from the right side and straight across from me is another door which I assume leads to Malfoy's room, and there is one more door between the two bathroom vanities on my left that opens out into the hallway of the loft. _Note to self: Remember to close and lock all doors before showering._

I set my toiletries bag down on the sink closest to my room and start putting my stuff in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. The door to my right squeaks open and I whirl around to see Draco walking in rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He must have decided, like me, that putting real clothes on this early wouldn't be worth it, and is wearing only a pair of low-slung plaid green pajama pants. I can't help but notice his pale, muscular chest, ropey arms, and broad shoulders. He looks good, _really_ good.

But it's not like I'm going to tell him that.

"Would it kill you to put a shirt on Malfoy?" I ask, disdainfully.

"Granger? What are you doing in my bathroom?" he demands, but is too tired to sound truly angry.

"_Our_ bathroom." I correct, warily. I don't want another fight this early in the morning.

"Figures..." he mutters under his breath. And then proceeds to brush his teeth.

Monday morning starts too early for most students and it shows; boys with heavy-lidded eyes, and girls with unbrushed hair supporting their heads on their hands and scooping food into their mouths fill the tables across the Great Hall.

"Morning, 'Mione" Ron grumbles sleepily, as I plop down in the seat next to him.

Before I can reach over to put a couple sausages on my plate along with a heap of cheesy eggs the ugliest owl I have ever seen lands in front of me, bearing a letter with my name on it. The scruffy owl is an unnatural mustard yellow color with orange eyes, but he stands haughtily, waiting for me to untie him message before swooping off.

Unfolding the parchment, my stomach sinks as a read the short note.

_Do whatever it takes, whenever it needs to be done, regardless of whether you feel like doing it or not._

I know it's from Delia; it's even on Muggle paper. How she managed to get an owl is beyond me, but her words are enough to make me reach for an apple instead of the delicious hot eggs I was originally planning on.

* * *

Draco POV

After that disastrous morning I am glad to be back with comrades again. Pansy is pretending to listen to my complaining, nodding every so often just to placate me, but I don't mind. She probably has other things on her mind. Pansy and I have been friends for as long as I can remember; our parents worked together so, as children, we were often sent away while they discussed "adult stuff." I continue my rant about Granger, letting out steam.

"...I mean, look at her, she's not even-" A fork clatters loudly onto the plate next to me and I glance at Pansy to she her eyes wide, looking across the hall at Granger.

"Pansy?" I put a hand on her shoulder uncertainly. She shoots up from the table and bolts out of the Hall. Staring across the Great Hall, I try to find what it was that upset her. Granger's hair looks nicer than usual, but other than that...and then my eyes land on the most hideous owl I have ever seen. _No. No, no, no, no. Not this. Not again._ And I too leave the Great Hall, trying to find Pansy.

* * *

Hermione POV

I silently tuck the paper into my robes, and excuse myself from breakfast. My next class is not for another forty-five minutes so I hike up the long staircase to the Heads Dorm.

_Why? Why didn't I just say no when I first met her in that cafe? Why is what I am just not good enough for her? Why did I sign that contract? _

_Why can't dad just support us himself? Why do I have to do this? Why can't I be good enough to do this?_

_I need to do this. My family needs the income, Gran is in an assisted living home, and they aren't cheap. I need to do this._

'Whatever it takes,' I remind myself.

Getting to the dorm, I search the bookshelf for a book that Malfoy would never touch. _Cooking for the Housewife._ Perfect. I slide the note from Delia between the pages and place it back on the book shelf.

I can't bring myself to throw the note in the fire, but I don't want it in my room, standing as a constant reminder. And I certainly don't want Malfoy to find it.

* * *

Draco POV

I find her, huddled up against a wall in an abandoned corridor, sobs shaking her body. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her against my side.

"Shhh...shhhh, it's alright. You don't have to go back, it wasn't there for you." I whisper in her ear, rocking her back and forth comfortingly.

I know what is going through her mind, its going through mine as well. The flashing lights, the loud sirens, the Muggle hospital bed. The Muggle doctors crowding around, the machine beeping unevenly. The woman, that foul woman yelling into a little box held to her ear. My friend, my best friends pale face, nearly blending in with the white pillows. Her frail body looking so helpless.

"I- I know." she stutters, beginning to get control of her tears. "Draco, promise me. Promise me you'll keep an eye on her." Her hands grip my dress shirt.

"She won't-" I don't know how to finish my sentence. "She's stronger than that-" And it's true, as much as I hate to admit it, Granger is one of the strongest people I know.

"Promise me. Just in case." Pansy demands, her eyes blazing, all traces of tears gone.

"I will." Because, although I hate Granger, no one deserves that. Not even her.

**

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AN: This story is over 10,000 words! That is a major accomplishment for me :) I was originally planning to keep this in Hermione's POV, but figured I couldn't capture all of the story if I did- but what do you think?**  
**Anyways-review, let me know if I am moving to fast.**


	9. Chapter 5

**AN: Review or message me with any comments or criticism! I want to hear what you think, so please please please, spend a couple seconds and send a review. Also, I forgot to mention, but a reviewer brought it up to me- the quote/ excerpt/ whatever it is, isn't mine **** I only wish I could write that beautifully.**

* * *

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

I really hate having my dorm on the opposite side of all my other classes. I left five minutes earlier than I usually do and I am still barely sliding into my seat as Professor Slughorn steps into the classroom.

Our class size is much smaller than it has ever been, partly because of the fact that many students did not return to Hogwarts after Dumbledore's death, and partly because this was a very advanced class. It consisted of about twenty students from all different Houses.

"Harry, why weren't you at breakfast?" I whisper to him, as Slughorn sets a few things up. Harry's face turns a bit pinkish, and something occurs to me, "Hang on, why wasn't _Ginny_ at breakfast either?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. I am glad Ron isn't taking potions this year because I wouldn't dare mention this in front of him.

Harry's face turns even redder and I can't help the grin that stretches across my face.

"Harry James Potter..." I scold teasingly, in a mock-stern voice.

"Good morning, class." Slughorn greets.

"Saved by the bell," I mutter to him under my breath. "This conversation isn't over."

* * *

Classes proceed like they always do, and soon enough the horrid affair of dinner is over and I am heading back to the common room to start my homework.

The fifth floor is rather beautiful in a haunted sense. The doorway off of the stairs opens into a large ballroom that looks as though the house elves have not visited it in a while. There are old chairs piled in one corner of the cavernous room and high windows, letting in the moon and star light, illuminate the wall of glass to my right. Melinda's portrait is along the left wall, but instead of stopping at it I continue walking along towards the end of the room.

There is an arched doorway leading to a winding flight of stairs. _"Lumos." _ I light my wand and begin the climb. My footsteps echo of the stone walls. After a five or so minute climb the stairs end at a circular balcony that is open to the black sky, the light summer breeze brushes against my cheeks. Looking out, I see all of Hogwarts and the grounds. There are lights flickering in windows and students working in the library.

I slide down to the stone floor, my back against the wall and figure that here is as good a place as any to start my homework.

I manage to get through my Arithmancy, and Transfiguration, and pull out my Potions book. The quiet around me isn't silence, its just _quiet._ There is the occasional owl hoot, and the crickets are chirping. I stop scanning my Potions book, and just look up at the sky, all the stars and the moon. And suddenly I feel very very small...

The next moment I open my eyes to see my Potions book in my lap and an uncomfortable crick in my neck. _I must have fallen asleep._ I realize, and then gather all my books together to head back to the Common Room.

Checking my watch I see it is nearly midnight. Wow, I was up here for awhile. Atleast now I won't have to deal with Malfoy.

Silently stepping into the Common Room I have every intention of sneaking up to my room, and then claiming I got in around 10 if Malfoy asked, but the sight of a blond head resting on the arm of an arm chair stops me. I'm incredulous; _was he _waiting up_ for me?_

Quietly padding across the thick carpet to stand across from him I examine his face. Pale blond hair falls in front of his eyes and he looks surprisingly _younger. _His shirt is wrinkled and is stained with what looks like mascara. _Ah, one of his broken hearted stalkers, parading as a girlfriend. _

I debate between letting him alone, or waking him up; I know his neck won't be feeling to good in the morning if he stays here, and an irritable Malfoy is not a good room mate. Before I give myself a chance to change my mind I reach out and give his shoulder a shake.

His hand shoots up and grabs my wrist painfully, twisting it, and faster than I can process I am clamped against his body, his arm secured around my waist, my back against his chest. His other arm is wrapped tightly around my front and his wand is held threateningly under my chin.

I don't move. I don't breathe.

A split second later his hands grip my shoulders and turn me around.

"_Granger?"_ He asks, sounding part relieved, part ashamed, and part shocked.

"Who'd you think I was? The tooth fairy?" I nearly shout. "Goodness Malfoy! If I knew I was going to get myself killed just by waking you up, I would have refrained!"

"Sorry." he mutters under his breath as he ducks his head.

"What were you still doing up?" I ask, trying to keep my heart to start beating again.

"What were _you_ still doing up?" he countered.

"I fell asleep!" I exasperate.

"So did I." He smirks.

I give a frustrated noise and stomp up the stairs to the bathroom and slam the door, but my dramatic exit is ruined when MAlfoy simply walks in the bathroom through the entrance off of his room.

Ignoring him I wash my face and brush my teeth, while he does the exact same thing. Old habits die hard when you grow up with dentists so I am still flossing my teeth when Malfoy turns to leave.

"Goodnight, Granger." He wishes me quietly, surprisingly sincere. And before I can detangle the floss from my teeth to give a coherent response, he has already left.

Silently and carefully I lock all the doors to the bathroom, and transfigure a towel into a scale. I feel a sense of dread wash over me as I step on it. _Too high, too high... I'll have to do something about that. Don't forget to set your alarm to run tomorrow. The pounds need to come off._

* * *

When I am done I pull on my pajamas and turn off the lights with a flick of my wand, and gratefully sink into my soft bed that reminds me of home. It isn't what many would call ideal, it wasn't luxurious, and didn't have silky sheets, but it was what I wanted. A worn soft plain purple comforter wrapped around me, and though my eyes are closed and the room is dark I can't go to sleep just yet; there are a million and one thoughts running through my head.

_What kind of life does Malfoy lead that makes his first response an attack? What hurt does his past hold, that he won't let anyone in? Who is the true Draco Malfoy?_

_What was he really doing sleeping on that arm chair, depriving himself of his precious beauty sleep? Was he waiting for me to get back? _

_What was with the 'goodnight' just now? Was he actually being _nice?

And then my mind drift to the more forbidden thoughts, like how it felt to be crushed against his chest, his arms roped with lean muscles holding me tight against him...

**

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AN: Review!**


	10. Chapter 6

**AN: I have been thinking of the place of Voldemort and the Death Eaters in this story and I have decided: Voldemort is dead, but there are still Death Eaters that desperately want to restore the Pureblood regime. **

* * *

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

_

* * *

BEEP BEEP BEEP! _My alarm clock sounds and I smack the off button with a groan. Since I haven't had the chance to unpack yet I grab my wand off my nightstand and unshrink my clothes. They are still somewhat folded from when I packed them originally, but it soon becomes a messy heap as I dig for some running gear.

Finally finding and changing into a tshirt and some running shorts I lace up my shoes and head out the castle. Thankfully, I don't run into anyone; it is still early-the sun is just starting to rise. Picking my speed up into a familiar and comfortable pace I make my way around the Black Lake, the steady pounding of my feet against the grass brings my mind away from the path in front of me and I let my mind wander.

I think of Harry and Ginny and almost burst out laughing at the stupidity of it all; Ginny has liked Harry for as long as I can remember but carefully hid it, and reluctantly tried dating other guys. It is a relief that Harry is taking notice to her and they are finally getting together if Harry's blush in potions the other day was any indication. I don't know how thrilled Ron is going to be, but better Harry than some random Hufflepuff or something. Oh, Ron... I had a crush on him for awhile, and we tried the whole dating thing but it didn't really work out for either of us, and we decided it would be best if we stayed friends. And yeah, the couple of weeks after we "broke up" had been a bit awkward, but Harry had gotten sick of his two best friends hardly speaking to each other and put his foot down. And after that we were back to how we'd always been, realizing how stupid we were being.

When I became Head Girl I didn't realize how much this would affect my friendship with them; even in the past few days we have all been so busy with classes that the only time we have seen each other is mealtimes, and a couple classes. It's not that I'm not allowed into the Gryffindor Common Room, I could go and visit anytime I like, but it just feels strange knowing that it isn't my home anymore.

No, my home included quite a different person than Harry and Ron, but it hasn't been all terrible. Malfoy confuses me, and infuriates me, but we haven't killed each other yet so I'll take that as a positive. As strange as it is, I rather like arguing with him. With Harry and Ron, they would back down to my argument, immediately seeing my logic, and agreeing that whatever I was proposing might be best. But Malfoy on the other hand, he hears my argument, but then refutes is, giving his own logic. I like it, it makes me think. I shake my head at the absurd conclusion that I actually _like_ fighting with Malfoy.

After my second loop around the Black Lake, I figure I've reached about four miles, and start to head back inside. I guess that I still have about an hour til breakfast, so I don't have to worry about bumping into anyone. Taking the stairs two at a time up to the Common Room, I feel energized. I love running, it always starts my day off right. Cheerily I give Melinda the pass word, and step into the Common Room. With a glance up the stairs I see that Malfoy's door is still closed so I pull off my shirt, and wipe the sweat off my face with it.

Over the summer I had run with my neighbor, and best Muggle friend, Alex to help keep him in shape for his cross country season when the school year started, and me in shape for modeling. It had always been blazing hot, so running in a sports bra wasn't really anything out of the ordinary, and Alex and I have been friends for as long as I can remember, so it's not like it had been awkward or anything. I always feel guilty when I think about him; I was never able to tell him about Hogwarts, and it's not that I didn't think he'd understand, I just didn't want anything to change between us.

Stepping into the kitchen, I slide a glass out of the cupboard and fill it with frigidly cold water from the tap, draining it I refill it and down the next one as well. I don't know what possess me, but I fill the next cup and dump it on my head. The arctic temperature water trails through my hair and down my back, instantly cooling my skin. I scrunch my shoulders up to my ears, and let out a paralyzed noise. _Ah, cold, cold. _I silently laugh to myself and rise and wash the glass to put it away.

Realizing that I do not particularly want to be caught by Malfoy in this state, I dash out of the kitchen and round the corner to head up the stairs.

_Oof!_

I am flat on the floor and the breath has been knocked out of me. Trying to get some air in my lungs, I attempt to sit up, but my forehead collides with something, and is knocked back onto the ground.

"_Oww!_ Merlin!" Malfoy's face is hovering above mine screwed up in a mixture of pain and annoyance.

"Get off me!" I huff, and shove at his chest. When I realize my hands are on his unshirted chest, I yank them back, and take note of the situation. We are a tangled up mess of arms and legs and he is still in his pajamas, I am still in my running clothes. We are skin on skin, and if anyone walked in right know they would assume some _very_ wrong things.

He gracefully rolls to his feet and offers me his left hand to get up; my jaw drops. Not because he is being _nice_, but because etched on his arm is the Dark Mark. It probably is silly for me to be shocked; of course he has the Mark, he's was Death Eater. But the Dark Mark that wasn't there yesterday. He follows my gaze and swears under his breath. Pulling his wand out from the back pocket of his pajama pants, he mutters a Disillusionment Charm, and the tattoo fades from sight.

I scramble to my feet and move quickly up the stairs.

"I didn't want it," He calls after me. "I never did."

And with a nod, I head into the bathroom to take a shower.

* * *

Once I am out of the shower, I pull out my wand and cast a quick drying spell. The perm that Andy did over the summer is still working its magic because my hair falls in nice springy curls. I swipe a bit of mascara on my eyes, and head into my room to find something to wear. Not really in the mood for my uniform, I decide that I'll just keep my robe on so I can wear some clothes of my own. I pull on a pair of light wash jeans, and a sleeveless beige bohemian-style flowy top with a braided belt, courtesy of Angela.

When I get down to breakfast, I am hungry from my run, but before I can even sit down the same Ugly Owl is pecking me with another note from Delia.

_An imperfect body reflects and imperfect person. _

After I am through picking with my food, and listening to Ron, Harry, and Ginny discuss the upcoming Quidditch season, I head back up to the room and slip Delia's note in the same book as before, a couple pages later than the first one.

**

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AN: Review!**


	11. Chapter 7

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

Draco POV

_Idiot!_ I want to put my hand through a wall. How could I have been so _stupid_? I'm not dumb enough to think that Granger hadn't know I was a Death Eater, but it had been nice, atleast for a while, to pretend otherwise.

With the Dark Lord dead, and Father in prison I had naively looked at this as a new beginning, a chance to start over. But the first night back she had thrown it in my face! I wince as I recall that none of our interactions had gone all that well.

The first night, how insults, ink bottles and even a punch had flown across the Common Room. It was like I couldn't help the words that came pouring out of my mouth, my fathers teachings so ingrained in my brain contradicted everything she was. As a mudbl-muggle born she was not dumb, weak, or undeserving. Granger was undeniably intelligent, fiery, and one of the hardest workers I have ever known I admit with grudging respect.

And last night, last night was too close. The whole mishap when she shook my shoulder, that was embarrassing. I have grown used to sleeping in fear, over the past year and a half I could have been attacked and I would not go down without a fight. The time on the run living outdoors or in rundown pubs, on missions that I was too lowly to know the objectives of. I'd grown used to being woken in the dead of night to fight for my life, it was nothing new, it had become an instinct.

And even this morning, literally landing on top of her small frame. I shudder at how easy she could be broken, and don't allow myself to see the parallels between her and the memory of Pansy's near skeletal body. Granger's not like that. Not yet.

Tonight is the first Dueling Club, and I am a bit excited and nervous to go. After the war and Voldemorts death, the Death Eaters had not disbanded as everyone hoped and thought; they had formed a new group called "The Pure," and are on the same mission as the Dark Lord- to restore Pureblood supremacy. They aren't much of a threat now, they do not have a strong leader and for that I am thankful that Father is still in Azkaban. But, my refusal to join their little group has made me a couple enemies in the Slytherin House. I can take care of them, but it is somewhat of a relief to live here instead of having to watch my back all the time.

Double knotting my shoes and giving my hair a quick check in the mirror to make sure its sufficiently messy, I dash down the stairs; not wanting to be late.

The sight of Granger's curled up form on a couch in front of the fire, a book dangling from her hand, stops me before I make it to the door. She's wearing Muggle clothes, and her hair is tied up in a messy knot on the top of her head, a few tendrils escaping and resting on her face. She looks peaceful, and is irrefutably beautiful, but as strange as it is, I miss her frizzball hair. The new bouncy curls, while beautiful, are another sign of the new world she had gotten herself tangled into.

"Granger." I call out to her, if I don't wake her up she won't go to the Dueling Club and I'll never hear the end of it, and I'd really like to avoid another fight. She groans and rolls over, effectively rolling straight off the couch.

That wakes her up in a hurry. Her flustered look, and hand grappling for her wand make it hard to hold back a laugh.

_"What?" _she croaks, her voice heavy with sleep and annoyance.

"Dueling Club. 5 minutes." I inform her. She jolts up right and pulls on her robes which had previously been doubling as a blanket.

"Thanks." She manages, and I give her a short nod.

We walk down to the Great Hall together in silence. When we reach the entrance Granger starts looking around, head craning to see above the sixth and seventh years that mill around the Great Hall.

"They aren't here." I tell her. At her confused glance I elaborate, "Potter and the Weasels. They booked the Quidditch pitch." I had seen Potter's name on the sign up when I went to book the field for our team earlier today.

Before she has a chance to respond, Professor McGonagal calls everyone to order. After giving us all a welcome in her usual clipped tone, she informs us the purpose of the meetings is to learn real life skills and I nearly snort. They wont be able to teach me jack squat, I learned the hard way, not in this "controlled environment," as she so put it. When I learned to fight, I learned for survival, I learned because there wouldn't always be a Healer on hand, as Madam Pomphery would be, I learned because I had two choices; fight or die.

"Today we will go over a basic shield charm." A new woman has taken the stage. Her no-nonsense tone, and rolled up sleeves show she means business. Pulling her straight brown ponytail tight she announces, "Everyone find a partner, and practice the charm against a non-verbal disarming spell."

Looking around I see that Blaise and Pansy are already partners across the cavernous hall.

"Partners?" Granger asks nervously, with a small smile.

"Sure." I grin back at her, bemused. A look of confusion passes over her face, and she turns slightly pink. _Okay...?_

"Umm...you can go first." I nod, and take a few steps back. Saying the spell in my mind she easily blocks it with a swish. We take turns, but it gets old quick. After 30 seconds I am bored, and I bet she is too. It's not remotely advanced magic for both of us. But still, being here is making me jumpy, there's so many people and the magic is non-verbal, so I wouldn't hear an attack coming, and it could easily be made look an accident, or hide who the caster was.

When that lady calls for attention again, I take the time to look around. Crabbe and Goyle are on the other end of the Great Hall so I don't need to worry about them. But Nott is standing less than 15 meters away, he and his partner giving me a strange look. I glare back at them, they better not try anything here, to many people, and it wouldn't make me join their little group either.

"_Malfoy._" Granger elbows me in the side, catching the fact that I hadn't heard a word whatever-her-name-was said.

"What? Sorry. What are doing?" I ask politely, glancing over my shoulder one last time at Nott. He seems sufficiently occupied so I turn my attention back to Granger.

"We are supposed to-" she gives an odd sort of noise, and snaps her hand to her shoulder. Quickly composing herself and she says through gritted teeth "Umm...excuse me, I'll see you back at the Common Room." With that, she turns and strides quickly out the double doors of the Great Hall.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out, I whirl around and look at Nott. His smirk tells me all I need to know.

_Coward._ I mouth at him, and inconspicuously follow after Granger. I know that spell was meant for me, so I feel a little pang of worry in the back of my rib cage. That spell could be _anything._

"Granger?" I call, when I reach the entrance hole to the Common Room. I hear a clatter from the kitchen and rush in, trying not to feel to worried.

She had shed her robe, and I see a gash on her shoulder blade; I can't help but breath a sigh of relief. It could have been a whole lot worse. She is running a towel under some warm water in the sink, and I take it silently from her hands. Steering her over to a chair, I examine the cut. It is not to deep, it looks like she just got the edge of the spell meant for me. Blood has soaked the edge of her sleeveless top, but it looks as if the bleeding is slowing.

"I'm sorry." I apologize quietly, and then sweep her curly hair to the side. My fingers tingle where they touch her bare skin.

"For what?" she asks, sounding truly confused.

"The spell. It was meant for me. Nott never has had a very good aim." She takes this in quietly, and though I know she probably has a million question, she stays silent for some reason.

"Why didn't you go see Pomphery?" I ask as I gently dab at the wound with the damp towel.

She snorts. "Go see Pomphery for this? It's a little cut. Besides..." and she trails off. A grin spreads across my face and I have to stifle a laugh.

"Hermione Granger, to proud to admit she got hit?" I tease, though I seem to be lacking the usual meanness.

"Sod off." She replies, but I can tell shes missing the usual heart behind her insults as well.

"Hey! Don't hex the healer!" I reason, holding my hands up in an I surrender gesture. After giving one last spell, I say "Besides, you are just about done." I run my finger over the small scar left behind, and I realize I've left my touch on her a little longer than I should. Drawing my hand away from her warm skin, she stands up from her chair.

"Thanks." she whispers, and I become conscious of how close we are standing. _Really_ close. Her chocolate gaze meets mine, and the low lighting casts shadows across her face. Her brown eyes are warm, and they hint at a home I never had, a safety I've never experienced. It doesn't escape my notice when her eyes flick down to my lips.

I bring my hand under her chin, and gently tilt her face towards mine, keeping my eyes locked on hers until they drift shut. It's a light lingering kiss; like a breath of fresh air. Her fingers trace up my jaw, and weave into my hair. But then she pulls back, her touch leaving a fiery path along my face as she withdraws her hand.

She ducks her head, and refuses to meet my eye as she hurries out of the kitchen. I stand there stunned at what just happened. It lasted a split second, but this changes _everything._

* * *

AN: Hello there! I didn't particularly want to write this chapter, so I hope it went okay. I know that the part about "The Pure" was rather abrupt but I had to introduce it some how. So review! Let me know what you think :D Did I do okay on the Draco POV? Am I moving to fast? To slow? This is the longest chapter so far so please please review!


	12. Chapter 8

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

Hermione POV

The weeks go by without any notable distinction. The trees turn golden, and then loose their leaves to the wind and the cold. The cookbook grows thick with the notes from Delia, constantly reminding me how far I am from perfect. The number on the scale slowly ticks down, point by point, but I look and the mirror and feel fatter than ever.

Malfoy and I go out of our way to ignore each other, and when we have to interact, in classes, patrols, or planning the winter ball, it is always stiff. We don't mention the incident in the kitchen.

Harry and Ginny are officially together now, and Ron is grudgingly accepting after what I heard was a record loud shouting match in the Gryffindor Common Room after Ron discovered the two holding hands.

For the most part I have thrown myself more in depth into studying, perfecting the only thing I do have control over; my grades. Harry, Ron, and Ginny have noticed of course, the lack of food that passes through my mouth, but I manage with sufficient excuses of already eating in my Common Room, and having to dash of to do some last minute researching.

I have grown used to the regular routine of running, showering, getting a note from the Ugly Owl, going to classes, and then sleeping. I have grown used to the clawing feeling from the inside of m stomach, and the light headedness from lack of food when I stand up to fast. But, I don't care. I will be perfect; I have never failed at anything before. I won't fail at this.

* * *

Pansy POV

So I watch her. I watch her get the owls from Delia everyday. I watch as her face sinks and she pushes away her food. I watch as her friends try to help her. I watch as she ignores them. I watch as her face gets thinner and thinner.

I watch her go through the same battle that I did. The struggle to ignore what's on her plate, to put on a convincing smile for her friends, and to pretend like everything is okay.

And I watch him. I watch his face grow helpless and frustrated. I watch his eyes become permanently etched with worry. I watch him watch her.

I become the silent party, only watching and waiting. Waiting for something I hope will never happen. Because that girl does not deserve to die.

* * *

Hermione POV

The first snowfall of the year signals the end of my morning runs. As usual, I head down to breakfast and seat myself down next to Ron, across from Harry and Ginny. Like clockwork the Ugly Owl shows up, like every other day, and haughtily waits for me to untie the message before swooping off. I tuck the note into my robes and prepare myself for the daily picking around at food, ignoring the temptation to eat any when my family's owl lands neatly on my shoulder. Our brown owl is more patient than its previous orange visitor, so I take my time untying the message and give it a treat before sending it on it's way.

I unfold the parchment, and turn slightly away from Ron so he can't view the letter.

_Dear Hermione,_  
_How has school been going for you? Are you enjoying your post as Head Girl?_  
_I am writing to let you know of an unfortunate change in the situation back here. The rates of your Grandmums assisted living home have gone up and we are truly sorry to pull you away from your studies, but we need you to do one job with Delia. We have already contacted her, and she was thrilled and said that she would owl you. I love you, and appreciate all that you do for our family._  
_Love,_  
_Mum_

Dread washes over me, sending shivers down my back. So soon? So soon I would have to return to the world of beautiful people who I didn't belong with, and have to face Delia's disappointment.

A fist slamming down on the table startle me out of my thoughts and I jump. Harry is clutching the Daily Prophet in his hand looking livid.

"Malfoy escaped? Lucius Malfoy escaped?" His face his red, and his tone is incredulous.

"What?" Ron crows, leaning across the table to see the article Harry was reffering too.

"How is it that five years ago no one had ever escaped, but now we have mass break outs every other week?" Harry asks frustrated.

"Dumbledore always said he didn't trust the Dementors to say on our side." Ginny reasoned, calming him down.

"But- but- the war is over." Run stuttered.

My eyes drift over to the Slytherin table, and see that Malfoys face is paler than usual, it seems he was just getting the news as well.

I can't take this. I stand up and inform them that I'll see them in lessons and return to the Common Room, ignoring the black splothes that are spotting my vision. The corridors are colder than normal, even the large fireplaces around the castle don't keep out the frigid temperatures from outdoors completely.

Seating myself on a couch in the Common Room, I draw a small measure of pride in the fact that I had absolutely nothing for breakfast. I know that I can't ignore it anymore so I pull the note from Delia out of my robes. It's bigger than usual, and opening it I see it doesn't have the usual fun phrase.

_Mesmerizing 'Mione,_  
_Your parents contacted me and I am delighted to hear that you want to take a weekend off for a shoot. I have you booked for an up and coming designers shoot in the Mediterranean, it will be a double shoot, but I have not been informed of who your partner will be but I will get you information as soon as possible. It will take place December 21 and we will have you back home by Christmas!_  
_-D_

December 21? That's the day after the Winter Ball, doesn't look like I'm going to be having a very relaxing Christmas Break after all. And a partner? I've never done this before, and am quite nervous. I have seen the campaigns and ads before, beautiful women with handsome men holding them, caressing them. But I never figured I would be doing one, it makes me uncomfortable at the thought of a strangers hands on me.

_But you welcomed it before. _A voice whispers in the back of my mind, and I recall the night on the dance floor; with the blond haired man I never saw again.

Fatigue overtakes me, and I let it. The idea of classes doesn't even cross my mind when the blackness clouds my vision, and I give into exhaustion; the letter from Delia falling lightly on to the thick carpet.

-  
**

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AN: Alright, I know it's kinda short, and I skipped a lot of time but I hope I did okay. I didn't want to write all through the fall when I didn't have anything planned and I felt like the action was happening to fast so I spread it out. I find it really difficult to write about classes so I generally don't...oops. Also how'd I do on Pansy?**  
**But, let me know what you think!**


	13. Chapter 9

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

Granger was asleep. Again. It happens quite often now, and I am not all that surprised; her body can't handle to lack of fuel that is put in it. She is getting too thin, and now, unlike a few months back, when I could delude myself into thinking that nothing was wrong, I can't help but see the similarities between her and Pansy. I know I need to do something, but I am at a loss for what. I can't just walk into the Common Room and force her to eat; she would blow me off, or get really really angry. It's frustrating to see her wither away before my eyes; each morning getting closer and closer to vanishing all together. Every since, well, that time in the kitchen she has ignored me, and I have politely reciprocated the sentiment.

It is odd; the contradiction that she draws of herself. She is still Hermione Granger; know-it-all, book worm, intellect sharp as knives, and of high moral standing. She is still strong.

But in other ways she is so weak and stupid. To fall for the ploy that she is not good enough. To listen to the words of that devil-woman. To think that her worth is determined by the number she sees when she steps on the scale (which she always carefully transfigures back to it's original condition, for I have never seen it.) Here, lying exhausted on a couch that dwarfs her in our Common Room, she does not look like the strong, pain-in-the-butt, member of the crew that took on the Dark Lord and won. She looks like a little girl.

Crumpled on the couch, her hair falls into her face, and her face contorts slightly; she's not unconscious, merely sleeping. A piece of parchment slips from her hand and I reach over to place it on the side table so she know where to find it when familiar handwriting catches my eye.

Now, I don't mean to spy, but her _life_ is on the line with something like this. And I need to keep my promise to Pansy; because although I despise my father I have held to the lesson that Malfoy's _always_ keep their word.

Skimming the note, my stomach sinks; this is just going to hurry everything along. I am not dumb enough to think that Granger _asked_ for another job, so why would she do it? Why is Delia saying she is, my only guess would be her parents. But why would they be so keen to see her working like that? Have they seen her lately, do they know what it is doing to her?

I scrawl out a quick note to Delia, she knows who I am after the incident with Pansy; she knows not to cross me.

On my way up to the Owlery I slam the door of the Common Room extra hard, hoping that jolts Granger awake enough to get her to class on time.

* * *

**AN: I know, I know; it's really_ really_ short. I'm sorry- I will try and get another chapter up this weekend! Anyways, please review! How'd I do on Draco? Is the story line making sense and being realistic? **


	14. Chapter 10

"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her  
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."  
"And what's that?"  
"_Skinny."_

* * *

Hermione POV

"Malfoy!" I stomp my foot in frustration, "the ball isn't going to plan itself." Standing up, I push myself away from the table and my roommates lounging figure; leaning back on two chair legs. I ignore the black dots that cloud my vision; I refuse to pass out in front of Malfoy.

"Merlin, Granger. Keep your shirt on, just do the regular green and red garbage and be done with the matter. Or better yet, make the prefects figure it out." He drawls lazily.

"You can just _do_ that." Why. Why on earth did McGonagal think that this insufferable git would be remotely acceptable as Head Boy. This is the third meeting that I have set up, trying to get the Winter Ball organized as its date get closer and closer.

Today there is a Hogsmaede trip and I am being forced to go with Ginny to find the "perfect dress." I nearly snort out loud. Perfect? On me? Not possible, I have too many flaws to wear the beautiful gowns that the other girls will be wearing. Too much extra baggage on my frame to pull off looking moderately decent; thighs that widen and a stomach that rolls when I sit down. I don't deserve a pretty dress.

A loud sigh breaks me from my reverie and Malfoy finally and uncharacteristically agrees to work. After 2 hours of planning we are nearly finished.

"Wow, Malfoy. I didn't think you were even capable of doing this much work." I comment dryly.

"Was that a compliment Granger?" He smirks "You know, I didn't stay the second best in our year just by paying them off, you know?"

"Well, there's a shock." I retort, but in a more teasing manner. Checking my watch I bolt upright, once again black dots fuzzy up my vision for a moment and I sway on my feet. Malfoy stands up, looking a bit... _concerned?_ No, of course not, and I dismiss that observation.

"I was supposed to meet up with Ginny five minutes ago!" I groan. Dashing around to grab my stuff, I rush out of the common room ignoring Malfoy's amused expression, and 20 minutes later Ginny and I are entering our first dress shop.

There are other girls from Hogwarts there and while it doesn't surprise me, it makes me nervous. I don't really want an audience to see me in these dresses. I really just want to go back to school and go hide in the library, or work on next weeks Artithmancy homework, but Ginny would never let me.

Ginny wastes no time pulling dresses from the racks; all colors, lengths, styles. As her arms pile high with the gowns, I stand there uncertainly, slightly repulsed by all the dresses.

"What are you waiting for?" Ginny calls over the stack of dresses in her arms.

"Nothing I guess." I say with a forced smile and make my way over to the nearest rack. My fingers brush over silk, satin, taffeta and more. There is so much to chose from and among all the clothes I find myself missing Angela, she could make this so much fun. We would be giggling in no time. Ginny pulls out a hideous yellow dress and holds it up as if asking for my opinion.

"Gorgeous 'Mione. Don't you think?" She asks in a fake pompous tone, which reminds me a bit of Delia. "I do believe wearing this will make me the most stunning girl at the ball." She proclaims continuing her act of grandeur and when I burst out laughing I realize that I can have enough fun with Ginny.

After rifling through the racks for a bit we decide that we can't carry anymore and head over to the dressing rooms. There is only one open and I let Ginny go first, settling into an arm chair, crossing my legs, to give the proper yea or nea towards the dresses in question.

Soon enough she slides out of the dressing room with a long shimmery black gown, she looks so _thin._ Why can't I?

"Well, what do you think?" She asks of my opinion.

"It looks amazing," I concede, "but, the black sorta washes out your skin tone, what if you go for something with color, maybe a green to offset your hair tone." I muse.

Ginny looks shocked. "When did you learn about _clothes?" _ She questions, dumbfounded at my expertise, and I realize that I must have picked a couple things up, hanging with all the high fashion people.

"I have my ways." I say with a small smile, subtly avoiding the question. I still don't want to let them know about my job for some reason, like if I ignore it, it can just not exist for a while. But what I can't ignore now are my legs; they have started to prickle painfully and I quickly uncross my legs. It's surprising that I still forget about that, it happens so often now, I can't even cross my legs anymore without them falling asleep.

Ginny heads back into the dressing room and her next choice makes my jaw drop. The ivory colored dress fits her perfectly and the fact that its strapless makes her neck look long and elegant. The dark green sash tied under the bust adds a pop of color that brings out her eyes, and brightens her deep red hair.

"Oh, Ginny, it's perfect!" I exclaim, and she gives a wide smile. I know she is in love with it.

"I love it." she states simply and elatedly and then declares that it is my turn.

Every dress that I try on is painful to look at and I hurry through it, avoiding glancing the mirror as I head out for Ginny's approval. It takes forever and I lose hope after the eleventh dress; of course there is not anything that would look good on me. Ginny's comment one time stops me:

"Merlin, you're so thin! I wish I was as skinny as you, you look hot." Those words make me stops, force a smile and rush back into the changing room. I chance a look into the mirror.

How could she say that? Of course I'm not skinny. If I was skinny I wouldn't have to change for Delia. If I was skinny my ribs would stick out more and I wouldn't have this extra fat just hanging off of me. I am not skinny, and it hurts for Ginny to say she'd like to be me.

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AN: Ahhhh sorry it took so long! I wasn't even intending on making this the end of the chapter but figured I might as well give you what I got- I'll do my super hardest to get out the next chapter faster! Review? **


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